


Another Synonym For Still Not Over You

by Slashy Goodness (allmadhere)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Fuck City
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-27
Updated: 2010-03-27
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allmadhere/pseuds/Slashy%20Goodness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It's a strange way of saying that I know I'm supposed to love you."<br/>Pete says some things without really thinking about them and Patrick is a stubborn little fuck sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Synonym For Still Not Over You

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on moviescriptending on DW for the clothes theme.

Pete yawned hugely and stretched before blinking and scratching at his stomach just above his boxers, hidden beneath a Bowie shirt a few sizes too big and wearing thinner all the time. He frowned down at himself. It wasn't as if he'd be able to just snag another while they were on tour, back when they were still a band. Well, technically, they were still a band, just on a hiatus while everyone tried to get their heads back on straight, but he knew he'd screwed everything up for them all. He just sighed and curled himself into a ball. It was never too early to begin the litany of curses at himself for letting his dick lead the charge and running straight into a relationship that couldn't do anywhere at all then .

He wasn't sure of how much time had passed but he'd managed slowly curl himself as small as he could and both the sheets and his ill-gotten shirt were damp with his tears. His phone vibrated and rang against the nightstand, Poker Face pouring tinnily from its tiny speakers. Of its own accord, his hand snaked out from his contorted form and grabbed the offensive thing, thumb hitting the key to answer.

"Pete," came Andy's voice, "this is just plain stupid. Mix and I are going to be there in an hour. Try to be decent."

"Whatever," Pete mumbled in reply, already hanging up as he curled back in on himself without bothering to heed Andy's warning.

The hour apparently decided to pass in just a few moments, because it wasn't long before someone was pounding at his door. Pete slipped into a threadbare green hoodie, another pilfered good like so much of what he'd been wearing lately. He shuffled barefoot to the door, snuffling worse than Hemmy and rubbing at his eyes. He yanked it open, blinking his puffy eyes in the intense California sunshine for a moment. Once his eyes adjusted he nearly slammed the door in Andy's face.Hurley had brought Mixon, just as he said he would, along with Joe who was holding a suddenly shy Patrick who looked ready to bolt.

"Conniving bastard," he muttered, glaring blearily at each guest until he reached Patrick. For some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to do it, glaring at the ground instead. There he found Patrick's shifting feet in a pair of his specially made Supras, a pair he thought he'd lost halfway through the tour through Europe he'd brought them on. He'd smile if he could remember how. Silence reigned for a few long moments.

"Oh for fuck's sake, you two!" Mixon cried in exasperation. "Pete, you're not going to ruin your band. Patrick, you're certainly not going to break Pete or whatever else you think. You two are meant for each other. Now go in Pete's room and have copious amounts of make-up sex or something." Andy rolled his eyes and quirked a tiny smirk. Joe nodded solemnly and shoved Patrick stumbling inside.

Patrick crashed into Pete and the two went sprawling to the floor. They stared at each other for a moment, wide-eyed. The front door slammed closed.

"You're wearing my shirt," Patrick murmured, finally breaking the silence. "My hoodie too." He gave a trembling attempt at a smile. "I thought you might burn everything after what you said in that interview."

Pete snerked. "You really still listen to anything I say, 'Trick?" He slid off Patrick's hat to run a hand through his hair. "Besides, you're wearing my shoes and we both know they don't fit you." Pete gently kissed at Patrick's still trembling lips. "I guess it's a strange way of saying that I know I'm supposed to love you."

Patrick pulled a face. "I'll love you as long as the only time you quote our lyrics at me is when we're performing." This time, his smile was genuine and sunny, chasing away all the clouds of uncertainty that had been dogging Pete for months.

"Deal." He beamed as he pulled Patrick in for a proper kiss. "Now, I think someone promised me copious amounts of make-up sex?"


End file.
